


25 Lives

by margaerytvrell



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, And also not alternate universe, F/F, The Tudors fusion, we'll see, whoops
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-23
Updated: 2017-08-09
Packaged: 2018-12-05 17:22:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11582700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/margaerytvrell/pseuds/margaerytvrell
Summary: Twenty-five stories showcasing the relationship of Margaery Tyrell and Sansa Stark across twenty-five lifetimes.





	1. 25 Lives

**Author's Note:**

> To celebrate the premiere of season 7, and considering that I haven't written anything in months, my sansaery feels are up and running again! Aaand I missed writing about them. This fic is inspired by Tongari's 25 lives which is my all time favorite poem and will be the first chapter of this story. I hope you enjoy reading!

**25 Lives by Tongari**

****

The very first time I remember you, you are blonde and don’t love me back.  
The next time you are brunette, and you do.  
After a while I give up trying to guess if the colour of your hair means anything.  
because even if you don’t exist, I am always in love with you.  
I remember most fondly those lifetimes where we get to grow up together,  
when you share your secrets and sorrows and hiding places with me.  
I love how you play along with my bad ideas,  
before you grow up and realize they are bad ideas.  
(And in our times together I have many bad ideas.)  
When we meet as adults you’re always much more discerning. I don’t blame you.  
Yet, always, you forgive me.  
As if you understand what’s going on, and you’re making up for  
all the lifetimes in which one of us doesn’t exist,  
and the ones where we just, barely, never meet.  
I hate those. I prefer the ones in which you kill me.  
But when all’s said and done, I’d surrender to you in other ways.  
Even though each time, I know I’ll see you again, I always wonder  
is this the last time?  
Is that really you?  
And what if you’re perfectly happy  
without me?  
Ah, but I don’t blame you; I’ll never burn as brilliantly as you. It’s only fair  
that I should be the one  
to chase you across ten, twenty-five, a hundred lifetimes  
until I find the one where you’ll return to me.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	2. 1536

The year was 1536 in the outskirts of London. News of the queen's arrest had already spread through the country like wildfire and everyone was divided. The English men of the king's council, who were devoted Catholics at that time, were speculated to have plotted the queen's downfall. Her scandalous love affair with King Henry VIII had him discard his first wife, disrespect the pope, and cut ties with Rome just so he could marry Anne Boleyn and make her his _new_ queen. This made half of the population despise Anne and only recognized Henry's first wife as the true queen of England.

Meanwhile, there were those who truly adored Anne. Those who felt that she was innocent and that the accusations made against her were false. Sadly, Henry did not see it so and had her case investigated at once. It was later concluded that Anne was guilty on all charges. And only her head could compensate for the _grief_ she brought upon the king.

Sansa Stark, however, never thought of which rumours to believe in. She had heard of both sides in the little town up north where she lived but never truly engrossed herself with it—with the politics and the mayhem. However, she couldn't be oblivious to the matters that happened in the country. Especially now that she was being sent to London on the early morning of 3rd of May 1536 as a lady in waiting for Henry's new wife to be, Jane Seymour. She was told that after Anne's execution, the king intends to take Jane as his third wife. Sansa couldn't bother herself any less about it, she didn't want to play the game the high lords played. She was just doing her duty—as an obedient daughter.

“Do you know what _a lady in waiting_ means, lady Sansa?” William Kingston asked.

William Kingston was the constable at the Tower of London that time, where the queen Anne stayed until the day she was to be executed.

“It would mean attending to a lady's matters...” Sansa responded almost timidly. The constable looked at the young redhead, recognizing the uneasiness in her tone as she spoke as if she was unsure of her answer.

“— being her assistant,” Sansa Stark added, almost in a rush, “changing her linens, serve her meals, help her with her clothing—”

“Have you been a lady in waiting before?'

“I-I was once, Master Kingston. A wife of a duke.”

“You need to learn how to be one for a queen.”

Sansa couldn't quite understand as to what he meant by that. What did _learn_ mean, exactly?

“I don't understand—”

“You will be attending to Anne Boleyn, the _late_ queen, until the day of her execution. Then you will be sent to Hampton Court where the lady Jane will be.”

 _Late_ queen, Sansa thought.

The queen Anne was already as good as dead.

 

–--

 

Master Kingston escorted Sansa to the Tower of London. High, unbreachable walls and gloomy skies governed the tower and Sansa felt the chill to her bones, as if it was her own doom that was meeting her.

Up the tower they went, heading to the lodgings where the queen Anne was staying. No exchange of words were shared between Sansa and the constable. At that moment, she was thankful that she was no where near being the queen, or even affiliated with politics of any sort—especially after all the misfortune that it had brought Anne. Sansa did not have the slightest clue on how to greet her—a _dead_ queen. She never encountered someone who was to be executed. It wasn't a common set up where she lived. It was a quiet town in the north—very plain compared to the English court which her father once described. Sansa grew up with simplicity by her side. Everything was as it seemed. And the English court was the complete opposite. Sansa didn't know what to expect.

“Madam,” Master Kingston greeted as the wooden doors of the lodgings were opened. It was the first time Sansa saw Anne.

Anne's eyes were as dark as her hair. She was still dressed as a queen, from jewelry to footwear and the ivory blue that flowed from her hips to the cold floor. The brunette had her hair tied into a bun, having some of the strands fall on to one side of her face. Sansa noticed the other ladies in waiting just behind the queen, how much their uniforms were in sync and so were their expressions.

The queen took a good look at the redhead that was presented to her and it only made Sansa feel all the more insignificant in the world she was starting to step in. With the queen's unfailing posture and unprecedented aura, Sansa thought that Anne was very much every inch a queen, as if she was born to be one and nothing else.

“Your majesty.” Sansa spoke hurriedly as Anne met her eyes. She gestures her curtsey, eyes now glued to the floor.

Anne does not respond to the young Stark, but her eyes observed Sansa still.

“I don't recognize this one, Master Kingston.” Anne finally looks up, eyes meeting the constable.

“She is the new lady in waiting, sent from up north, madam.”

Puzzled with his response, the queen asks, “I already have five in my service, why add one more?”

“Given to you as a luxury by the king.”

“ _As a luxury_.” Anne repeats.

A sarcastic tone.

“My king spoils me, still.”

No one dared to answer back as everyone in the room noticed the self pity in her tone. For a moment, it was silent. By this time, Sansa still had her eyes glued to the floor.

“What is your name, sweet girl?” The queen finally asks.

The young Stark looked up.

“Sansa, your majesty. Sansa Stark.”

 

–--

 

18th of May 1536

Sansa had been in Anne's service for nearly two weeks. There had been no exchange of words between Sansa and the queen ever since. She only did her duty by the queen—to serve her meals and help her with her clothing. And she wasn't all the more close to the other ladies in waiting as well. There were only exchange of sympathetic smiles, but everything was mostly quiet. The eerie kind of quiet.

Anne kept her mouth shut most of the morning whilst sitting on the side of her bed. She stared heavily at the tower's walls—deep in thought. How could anyone have been otherwise? She was going to die, by the command of the man she loved so dearly, the king—and because of crimes she did not commit.

It was 8 o'clock exactly and then began a bustling noise that resounded outside the walls of the tower.

“What is it?” The queen asked, awoken from her daze.

Sansa was the one closest to the window which is where her gaze was fixed at. The sky was as gloomy as the day she first entered the tower—if not more so.

Her lips parted slightly at the sight below, in disbelief. There was a crowd, yelling and screaming—and right before them... Was that...

“A-A scaffold, your majesty.” Sansa stuttered.

It only took moments for Anne to spring up from her bed and step closer to the window as well.

Was Anne meant to die today? Sansa knew it shouldn't be so. **It was supposed to be the day after.**

“I-It's my brother...” The queen tears up.

Sansa didn't like the sinking feeling in her chest as she heard the the queen speak. At that moment she wasn't entirely sure if the English court was somewhere she wanted to be; if serving the lady Jane was something she wanted to do. Sansa did not enjoy this. The cruelty was beyond foul, whatever the crime that was committed.

“Please leave me be... All of you.”

And with that, the other five ladies in waiting left Anne's presence. Sansa, on the other hand, felt hesitant to follow the order. She didn't want to leave the queen. To her, Anne was more than the queen everyone talked about. Sansa saw her as a sister who had to witness her brother's death. To the people who despised Anne, she was no more than the allegations that were made and the treacherous queen she was described to be.

 

–--

 

Sansa couldn't bear the sound of the queen's cries, even as she stood right outside the lodgings where it shouldn't be as audible. The other ladies in waiting listened intently as well but none of them didn't appear as bothered as Sansa did. Perhaps they were more experienced with this. They had been, after all, more accustomed to this arrangement.

But it was beginning to be a little too quiet or perhaps it was just Sansa's uneasiness with the sound of Anne's cries that bothered her even more. It compelled her to ask the other ladies in waiting, “What were the charges against her?”

It's not that Sansa hadn't heard them before her journey to London. But now witnessing how traumatizing it can all be, made her wonder again if the consequences were justifiable.

“High treason, adultery, and incest,” one lady answered, “that's why her brother is also brought to the scaffold.”

“And what's the punishment?” She asked further.

“Beheading.”

Sansa swallowed.

“They said during the trial that she was very flirtatious, even with her own brother—even conspired to have his majesty killed.”

“A-And... Everyone believed them?” The redhead questioned.

The rest of the ladies in waiting furrowed their eyebrows in suspicion at Sansa's question. And everything was as silent as it was before the conversation began.

“There was nothing else to believe.” Another lady finally responded. “And now her daughter is declared a bastard. She is removed from the succession.”

“But she loved the king.” Sansa protested. “Everyone saw it. Everyone knew it. She couldn't have just thrown everything away to be with him only to have it all ruined in the end.”

“Are you saying that the queen is innocent?”

Sansa pauses, soon realizing that she should have been more careful with her words.

“I-I'm just... There might be more to it.”

 

–--

 

It was another quiet evening. All six of the queen's ladies in waiting had just finished with their duties for that day. The others occupied themselves with changing the linens, while some arranged the queen's supper. Sansa helped the queen with her clothing for the night. The queen Anne was silent the entire time, ever since her brother, and the rest of the men that were falsely accused, were executed earlier that day.

The rest of the ladies proceeded outside of the lodgings, as they did when the job for the day was complete. Sansa was the last one in the room as she was tidying up the clothes the queen had worn that day.

“Is there anything else that you need, your majesty?” She asks, just about ready to leave Anne's presence.

 _A dumb question,_ Sansa realizes as soon as the words left her lips.

The queen had lost everything—her husband, her daughter, and now her brother. And it was only a matter of time until Anne would take her leave of this world. Sansa was talking to a dead woman. But to Sansa's surprise, the queen responds with a calm tone that she did not expect to hear.

“I'm quite fine, sweet girl. Thank you for all that you've done for me.”

As the silence settled in once again for the both of them, the redhead still had a hard time shaking off the entirety of the situation. She felt sorry for Anne.

“I'm truly sorry for what happened earlier...”

Anne stares at Sansa, not expecting the words from the seemingly younger female. She felt the sincerity quite enough that she couldn't respond with a 'thank you' other than a small smile.

“Sansa Stark, is it?”

“Yes, your majesty.”

“Margaery.”

“Pardon?”

“Margaery Anne,” she smiles softly at Sansa, “my name is Margaery Anne. Only the king knew that. He didn't like it very much. Perhaps that's why he kept calling me by my second name. I bet even the historians will forever know me as Anne. But _please_ , call me Margaery.”

Sansa saw it with the way the queen's eyebrows furrowed as she said the word _please_. It's as if the name Margaery was the only thing she had that wasn't stained with her misfortune. The name that doesn't remind you of a scandalous queen, who in that moment, Sansa saw with complete clarity, that there was more to Anne than what people had spoken of her.

“Margaery...” Sansa says softly, being careful with each syllable as she was still questioning if it was pronounced correctly.

Margaery smiles at the redhead girl, appearing pleased with her.

“I could tell that you're new at this—being a lady in waiting.” The queen paces closer to the chair nearby and Sansa froze.

“I was once for a wife of a duke back home.”

“But not for a queen?”

Sansa shakes her head before responding, “Forgive me, I don't even think that I'm qualified to be one of your ladies in waiting.”

“There's nothing to forgive.” Margaery says sincerely. “You've done wonderful so far. Your services are more than enough,sweet girl. Will you be a lady in waiting for the lady Jane as well?” The queen sits down, dusting her night gown before looking up at the Stark girl.

Sansa froze once more. It never once crossed her mind that the queen had a clue regarding this matter. And Margaery took note of the younger girl's expression.

“You'll do great there, don't worry about it.” She attempts to brush off some of Sansa's tension with a smile before she continued.

“I was a lady in waiting for the French queen before I was sent back to England. I was young and inexperienced. I was quite nervous all throughout the beginning as well. It lasted a good nine years though.”

“What was it like?” There was genuine curiosity on Sansa's part, but perhaps that was because she wanted the queen's mind elsewhere. She thought that it might be of help.

“It was the best time of my life.”

Margaery trailed off about her time in France. Also later on as she was introduced to the English court. She described how she got sucked into the king's world, being his queen later on meant drawing everyone's attention—the two of them being the only ones that mattered at court. The feasts, the theatre, and the tournaments were put up on a grand scale, fit for royalty—nothing that could ever be witnessed elsewhere. As Sansa listened intently to every word, she imagined what it would have been like if she had been a lady in waiting for Margaery long ago. She would love to have seen her smile and dance and laugh, and hear the echoes of it resounding at Hampton Court and probably at Whitehall Palace too. She felt the tug on her heart the moment she started to wish that she could've met Margaery sooner.

Sansa also spoke of home every now and then. She talked about her father and mother, and the siblings she grew up with. There really wasn't much to say compared to the queen's stories. They were simple and quite plain, but Margaery was eager to listen all the same. She listened attentively, even asking about the pet Sansa used to have back home. The dog Sansa would refer to as her wolf. This made Margaery smile. She was beginning to grow more and more fond of Sansa Stark before she even realized it.

The night seemed to pass by in moments, in flashes—in small laughter and wide grins that seemed new and familiar at the same time. The lack of communication for the past two weeks had brought them to this point. Sansa wished she could have spent the last two weeks like this, and not now, when it all seemed to late.

Margaery was beautiful and charismatic, Sansa thought. It was as if for a moment the queen had forgotten her misfortune and everything else that was yet to come. She seemed to smile for the first time in a very long time. Sansa could only hope to keep that smile with her and enclose it in resin. Nothing seemed as pure as that view in front of her. And nothing seemed to hurt her more than whenever thoughts of Margaery's execution resurfaced.

“I'm sure you'll enjoy the English court. The lady Jane will like you for sure.”

Sansa felt disturbed once more, realizing that the moment she steps into Hampton Court will be the time that Margaery would be out of this world. And she didn't want that.

Perplexed thoughts spun around Sansa's head—why did she feel inexplicably drawn to Margaery, someone she barely knew? Someone she had only spoken with that evening?

“We haven't met before, have we, Sansa Stark?”

“You said two weeks ago that you didn't recognize me at all.” Sansa responded almost immediately, acting as if she was more of a companion rather than a lady in waiting.

Margaery kept silent, the gaze through Sansa's eyes were heavy as if she was actually recognizing the girl and Sansa could only freeze at the sight of Margaery staring at her. As if there was anything to recognize. But Sansa saw it in Margaery's eyes that a sense of clarity had flushed her entire face.

“Thinking about it now, it's like I already met you.” The queen spoke as if she recalled from memory.

“I think I would've remembered meeting the queen of England.”

“Perhaps I wasn't the queen of England then.”

“I would've remembered, still.”

There was a delicate smile that grew vivid on Margaery's countenance. But Sansa couldn't deny that there was a hint of pain there, as if she had suddenly remembered what was waiting for her the following day.

“Wouldn't it have been nice though, if we met sooner? Things might have been different.” Margaery meant every word. “Would you have liked that?”

“That would have made me very happy.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by Natalie Dormer's role as Anne Boleyn in The Tudors. :D


End file.
